


The Memory of Metal

by AlexeCinz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexeCinz/pseuds/AlexeCinz
Summary: As concerns grow about how MEKA suits are manufactured, Hana grapples with memories of her past... and she comes to a disturbing revelation at the end. A short ficlet.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Memory of Metal

**Author's Note:**

> A short pic/fic combo for one of my favourite characters, Hana Song. I enjoy the cute canon and fanon interpretations of her, but feel she could not be one of Korea’s elite mech pilots without having a serious side. This is reflected in some of her in-game voice lines:
> 
> “The destruction caused by the omnics here… It reminds me of home.”  
>  “Seeing what happened after the war here gives me hope for the rebuilding of my country.”
> 
> Anyway hope this resonates with some of my fellow D.Va fans.

Busan is a battered city, an armoured hive. Where once stood the gleaming buildings of Centum City, where film stars promenaded and business moghuls held corporate retreats, there is now a MEKA base, the largest in Korea.

Hana shivers, but it is with anticipation, and not the cold. It is never cold in the base, even in winter. Waste heat pours from the foundry, where the mech parts are cast, and permeates into the officers’ quarters and training areas.

Not only is the heat ever-present, but also the sound - the hum, whirr, crunch of mechs being built, rebuilt, cannibalised for parts. So invasive that Hana hears it even in her dreams. Only when the volume of her earphones is turned up, and the beats of _Synaesthesia Auditiva_ wash over her _,_ does it recede from her mind.

Through tinted glass she sees the latest line-up of mechs. The A-line is exclusively reserved for assembly of D.Va suits; five are now being kitted by the mod technicians. After all, D.Va is no mere pilot, she is a symbol of **The Struggle**. MEKA Recruitment demands that her suits be customised with ever more glamorous paint jobs and accessories.

“We get through them so quickly,” she whispers to herself. She used to personify her suits, giving them a common thread of identity even as each one was destroyed in battle. Now she just refers to them by colour.

“Well they make them just as fast. At least yours are quality-controlled before you get in the cockpit.” Kang Joon, a.k.a. “DukeKJ”, rubs his sore neck. At 35, he’s an old-timer in both gaming and army circles. “They keep getting the pitch angle wrong on mine.”

“That sucks. I will _make_ them do something about it.”

“Spoken like a real diva.” He gives her a mock punch to the shoulder.

Behind Hana’s bravado she feels a pang of dread. Besides herself, Kang Joon is the last of Hana’s StarCraft D-clan. But it’s not just the danger to Kang Joon that makes Hana uncomfortable. Her own suits feel alien to her these days, less responsive, more unwieldy. The base psychiatrists say this a known condition among pilots, ‘Mech Dissociative Disorder Stage III’, but that offers cold comfort.

“I like a challenge - ” She trails off, unnerved by a strange keening sound, like a cross between microphone feedback and a human wailing. “ _You hear that_?”

Kang Joon looks oblivious. “Hear what?” He looks around. “The cooling fan?”

“No. Wait - it’s stopped - ”

Now there is a commotion on the assembly line. A technician lies writhing on the ground. Other technicians run over, searching for the cause of injury. The section head hits the emergency stop button and goes to inspect what has happened.

“What the?” Kang Joon’s forehead is pressed against the glass as he squints down into the plant. “Did that techie just fall off the platform? That was dumb - ”

Hana struggles to get her words out. Her pulse is racing. “I think he didn’t just fall… I think… I think the aileron warped out and hit his leg.”

They bring a stretcher to the downed technician. As he is lifted into it, the section head looks up at the viewing gallery. He makes eye contact with Hana for a second before turning away.

Kang Joon fumes. “If the aileron really did something weird, then it’s a programming problem. It’s no wonder our suits are getting worse when the engineers are such noobs.”

“Noobs,” echoes Hana with little conviction. She is desperate to be alone with her thoughts. “KJ… I’m just gonna squeeze in some simulator time. See you later in the canteen?”

“Sure. Just don’t secretly play StarCraft without me.”

“And KJ…?”

“Yeah?”

“You _sure_ you didn’t hear anything just now? Like a whining noise… Like…” _Like something from the past._

“That techie whining as he landed on his ass, maybe?” Kang Joon half-jokes. “But seriously, no.” He shrugs. “Ok later, ace.”

“Mm. Later, vet.”

Hana doesn’t go to the simulator. She makes her way to the old lookout tower on the east side of the MEKA base. Even with all the advanced sensors and satellite imaging they use for early warning, they still station a human guard here; he salutes and shyly asks her for a we-fie. She obliges on condition that he give her some time alone here afterwards, and he is only too happy to agree.

Hana gazes out to sea, breathing in the salt air. She sees where the Mega Omnic last rose from the ocean and attacked Busan. She sees the ruin of the breakwater, the long strip of twisted iron and crumbled concrete that the government has never bothered to redevelop, since it is a matter of time before the monster attacks again. Rather, gangs of enterprising junkers are clearing it, roving the beach with detectors in search of scrap metal. So much of it rained down in that last battle - both from the human forces’ craft and the Mega Omnic itself - that there is still enough for a lucrative trade years later.

Metal is scarce after all, and new mecha always have to be built.

That awful, keening sound replays in Hana’s mind. The sound of the Mega Omnic calling to its swarm, reconstituting and repairing itself even as the Korean army pounds it with ammunition. That call is mixed inextricably with the cry of Busan’s citizens for help. With the panic of people running to the underground metro for shelter. With the clatter of a plastic lunch box, decorated with a pattern of white rabbits, being knocked out little Hana’s grasp as she flees from the burning school.

Her fellow pilots, those from Seoul or Daegu, only know the Mega Omnic from news clips or training videos. They will never truly know the terror of it. And perhaps it is better that way, that they see it as just a game. Because for Hana, she has to pretend.

Hana swallows and forces herself to keep her eyes on the sea. She is ready for the call.

But she wonders how much metal in their mech suits has been scavenged from dismembered omnics.

**And she wonders if that metal, like her, can remember… and answer.**


End file.
